The press of lips lasts longer than a mere peck. Unsurely, Marianne starts to slide her lips over his, puckering and unpuckering between movements. To her relief, he responds in kind, his hand cupping the back of her head, his fingers threading in her hair. She hum-sighs happily, bother of her hands sliding around to clasp at the nape of his neck, both for leverage on his height and to keep herself from getting so dizzy she tips backward.

There is no tongue, no deeper kiss. After a few movements, Bog ends it with a gentle tug at Marianne's bottom lip with both of his, and they part, though they don't let go. He touches his forehead to hers.

"You've no idea how long Ah've been wantin' to do tha'," he utters in a near whisper, accent thick and husky. It sends a pleasant shiver down Marianne's spine. He lfts his head, looking into her eyes. He brushes a knuckle from her cheek to her ear so lovingly that her heart tightens and tugs, nearly stealing her breath away. "Ah-I just… dinnae know if... if you'd ever let me."

A smile grows warmly on her lips. "That's how I felt, too. See what happens when we both take risks?"

His answering smile is so broad and bright that it clears the slight pain in her chest, and her own smile reopens wider to mirror it.

"Oh, uh – coffee's probably ready," Bog says, clearing his throat and dropping his hands from her. He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck as he turns to take care of it, and she steps back and hugs herself, trying to restore warmth from how cold it feels without his touch. He pours her a cup, steps aside. "You can, uh, add whatever you like."

"Thank you," she murmurs, slightly flushed, and goes about making her cup right alongside him making his. He likes his with no sugar and only creamer to sweeten it. She likes hers embarrassingly sweet, with both sugar and creamer. Her cup turns out decidedly whiter than his.

They find seats in the living room, Bog giving Marianne the couch while he drops into the single chair beside it.

"So, later t'dae –"

"The police?"

"Y-yes."

"Hoo man. I am not looking forward to that."

"Just be honest. You were the target here. They cannae do anything to you when all you did was defend yourself," Bog reminds.

"I know, and I desperately want Roland put away for a while, but it also seems… I don't know. He needs a psychologist and some meds, is what he needs."

"They'll probably supply that. They don't just shut someone away without takin' a look at their mental health first."

"It's just that…" she sips her coffee while she finds the right words, clutching it with both hands like a shield. "As… as much as I hate him now, and as much as I realize how I didn't truly love him then, I just thought I did and went along with it because it's what I thought I had to do, more romanticizing our relationship for being a relationship than, well, feeling it – Some small part of me still cares about him? Is… is worried for him, because what he did – it was so drastic, I worry what sent him over like that? So I don't know… I have… mixed feelings about the police chat."

Bog is quiet for a moment. He leans forward, touches her hand where it has fisted over her knee. "You're a very kind person, Marianne. Not many people are so kind. You have every reason to be cold and unforgiving and spiteful t' him, but instead, ye still are concerned for his wellbeing. That's noble."

She feels a wash of heat and looks away. Her thumb idly rubs the rim of the coffee mug. "It doesn't feel noble. It makes me feel like I have Stockholm Syndrome or something."

He leans back with a short chuckle. "It's nae that. You're just very compassionate 'neath your Tough Girl exterior. And that makes you even stronger. Wish I were more like that, t'be honest."

She beams at him, close-lipped, and then resumes sipping her coffee.


The police station was a busy place, and once they finally got one of the officers from the bar last night to settle in to question them – separately, to make sure the stories are consistent, and to get the other side – they find the tales coincide with what Bog's mother told them, for as much as she knew, and Marianne was happy to supply the rest of the background that neither member of the McBoggart family is aware of.

The police deem it justified and release them both, and Roland's arrest for battery and the charges for stalking are confirmed, and once Roland hears that Marianne came in for questioning, he cracks and confesses, and takes a bench trial. His sentence hearing will come later, and the police reassure Marianne that little to no effort is needed from her from here on out, thanks to the confession.

Relief floods through Marianne, and suddenly she's just as exhausted as she was the previous night. Rubbing her injured hand idly, Marianne turns to Bog to ask him to drive her home.

Without her even speaking, he nods. "Let's get you home, shall we?"


Sunny is at work, so it's Dawn who flings open the door. She embraces her big sister the second she walks in the door, and before Bog can turn around and sneak off, Dawn yanks him and pulls him into a hug as well. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, isn't sure how to return the hug as he's being dragged down into it. He sends Marianne a helpless look, and she merely smiles and shrugs.

He opts to pat Dawn's head.

"Oh, Boggy-Woggy, thank you so so sO SOOO much for saving my sister and being there for her at the station and bringing her home safe! I swear to God, you are a keeper in the highest sense of the word. Please stay for a late lunch slash early dinner? I'll make pasta! Something warm and filling after this mess."

She releases him, and he takes a step back, raising his arms in protest. "Um, just Bog, please. And, o-oh, ah, um… I-I'd love to, b-but – I don't want to overstay me welcome, a-and – and Marianne is tired, she should rest, and –"

The blonde waves that aside. "Pfft. So she can take a nap, and meanwhile, I can make some tea and you and I can get to know each other better! Marianne is always talking about you. And every time she stays late at school or is texting someone and I ask what's up, it's always you! So don't be shy, big guy. You're in the friend circle now. There's no escape," and she winks, then giggles. Her pep is infectious, and he feels his shoulders lose their tension.

"Well… ah, alright. I suppose I can stay."

"Eeeee! Yay!" Dawn claps her hands, bouncing up and down a little. "Then come in, come in! And shut the door behind you. What were you, raised in a barn?"

"Actually… yes," he murmurs.

"He was a shepherd boy," Marianne supplies.

Dawn squeals, hands loosely balled up by her jaw. "That's so cute! Man, Boggy, you look scary with all those scars and tattoos – how'd you get those, anyway? More bar fights? – but you're just a big softie. I love it."

"It's… Bog."

"Dawn…" Marianne groans, "You can't just casually ask someone how they got their scars. That's like, super rude. What's gotten into you?"

"Oh, he doesn't mind. Do you, Boggy?"

"Bog."

"Big-Boggy-buddy!"

"…Bog!"

Dawn laughs. She looks over her shoulder at Marianne, who's tiredly dropped onto the sofa. "I like him, Maricat. He's one of those grumps with hearts of gold."

"Uh, Maricat?" he puzzles, looking between the siters.

Marianne groans. "Dawn, please don't –"

"Marianne Catherine De Fae! It's her full name. Sunny says it's a nun's name, which, I guess, makes sense. Our mom was hella Catholic. And she almost got it right on the nose! For a while there, I was worried Maricat would run off and join the covenant because she was so anti-men. That, or a lesbian. But then you came along, and now I'm not worried at all!"

"DAWN!" Marianne blushes a deep pink hue. She gets up and puts her hand over her little sister's mouth. "Bog, I am so, so sorry about this. If you want to go, you're totally welcome to."

He's grinning crookedly, shifting his weight to one foot, one arm lying across his chest tucked into his ribs, the other perched atop it with his cheek in his hand. "Oh, no, at this point, I'm highly entertained. And for being so entertaining, lass, I'll let ye know how I got my scars."

"Awesome!" Dawn bursts, throwing Marianne's hand off. "But hey, you won't make up, like, ten different stories like the Joker, right?"

"No, I'll be truthful."

"Sweet," Dawn beams, and Marianne smacks her own forehead.

"I need a drink," the brunette says tiredly, and heads for the kitchen.

"It's not a very thrilling tale. All but one or two of the scars y'see on me face, neck, arms, hands, and if ye saw my back or legs… They're all from a car accident a few years back."

Marianne stops mid-movement in the kitchen, frozen with a bottle of rum in one hand, half-empty liter of Coke in the other.

"I was driving on the highway, borrowing my mum's car, a wee old Saturn. There was a semi-truck in the lane beside me. It hit something on the road, and two of its tired blew. It swerved and careered sideways, hit me. My car spun, then flipped. It rolled over the road and finally stopped in the ditch to the right. There was broken glass everywhere, and my seatbelt cut into m'neck. They had to use the Jaws of Life to pry open my door and cut me free. I was conscious the entire time, and I could feel every cut. My arm was broken. I fractured my leg. It… took a while to recover."

Marianne finally sets both items down. She's staring at him, and he's actively trying not to look her way, only dares a glance once or twice. She clears her throat. "…Want some of this, Bog?"

He nods. "Double-shot, if you could."

"Aww, poor Boggy," Dawn soothes, patting his arm. She ignores him when he rolls his eyes and corrects her with a curt 'Just Bog,' again. She spins on her heel then, turning to face Marianne. "You! When you're done making drinks, come meet me in my room for a sec, okay? I wanna ask you something."

"Well that sounds promising," Marianne snorts sarcastically. She comes from the kitchen and hands Bog his rum and Coke, then takes hers with her as she follows Dawn to the far side of the three-bedroom apartment.

"Once the door is shut, Dawn launches right into it. "Please tell me you two around going to date. Did you see the way he kept looking at you? And how cool he was about telling his story because you're here? And the fact that he swooped in and fought with you… Marianne, you can't be stupid or stubborn about this. He likes you and he's such a keeper it isn't even funny."

Marianne fidgets. She was afraid of this. "It's… complicated."

"It doesn't have to be!" Dawn urges, making sure to raise her voice in a whisper instead of an octave. "Have you two, all this time, said anything against wanting to date one another? Have either of you made any moves?"

"Well…" Marianne's face twists, and Dawn gets excited.

"You have! Spill it."

"I, uh… kissed him this morning? Or, um – it was pretty mutual, actually."

Dawn conceals her volume with squeaking noises and bouncing. She grabs her sister by the shoulders and shakes her. "Then! Go! Get! Him!"

"I… can't. Not right now. A lot has happened."

Dawn rolls her crystal blue eyes. "Fine, fine. Wait a while for things to simmer down. But then talk to him, ask him out, something! Because you clearly like him too, right?"

"I… I'm not sure," Marianne says softly. "I think it's deeper than that."

"You love him?" Dawn says, and this time, with some level of surprise, her eyes searching Marianne's face.

"I accept him," Marianne says slowly, to clarify. The gears are turning in her head, and the more she speaks, the more she works her thoughts and feelings out. "All his positive attributes and flaws. Everything about him… I never get tired of it. There's never a point where I wish he's stop being a downer, or I want him to shut up. I like to hit him, but I don't want to hit him – like, sparring is really fun but I'd never ever want to hurt him. He's… someone I want to be in my life in some way or another for the rest of my life, because I just have this feeling that he'll always be there for me, and so I want to always be there for him."

"Oh my God," Dawn says softly. "You do love him. And – and I think I feel that way about Sunny…?" The epiphany slaps her in the face. She clamps her hands over her mouth in shock, then stares wide-eyed at Marianne. "Holy shit, I do. That's how I feel about Sunny! Oh my God…"

Marianne can't help but laugh. With relief, with amusement, with joy. "Ohh, man… I was waiting forever for you two to figure that one out."

Dawn moans and covers her face with her hands while she blushes deeply. "I feel like such a clueless moron."

Marianne pats her sister's back sympathetically. "It's okay. You definitely are."

The blonde just groans some more, and together, they return to the living room while Dawn pouts, and Marianne locks eyes with Bog and just smiles.